


time

by onlyeverthus



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-01
Updated: 2015-12-01
Packaged: 2018-05-04 10:44:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5331269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onlyeverthus/pseuds/onlyeverthus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rose can't seem to look at him, and he wants to know why.</p>
            </blockquote>





	time

The silence is awkward, broken only when Rose stands and announces she's off to take a bath. He nods, a little too quickly, and she glances at him before she disappears from the room. He sits a moment, waiting for the sound of the bathroom door clicking shut and the water turning on before he stands.

There's a mirror on the wall and he walks over to it. He feels compelled to see himself because he's wondering if there's something off about the way he looks. If there is some difference and this is why Rose won't look at him for longer than a few seconds.

His reflection stares back at him. Brown hair stuck straight up, brown eyes looking a little sad, a smattering of freckles across the cheeks and over the nose, lips a little on the thin side. Basically the same face he's had for the past few years. He frowns at himself. This is him, this is his face, he looks exactly the same. So why won't Rose look at him?

He sighs and turns away from the mirror, staring around at Rose's flat. She's changed in the time since he last saw her. Her home reflects this in its neutral coloring and surprising lack of personalization. It's almost as if she never really thought she'd be staying here, that she thought one day someone would come for her, someone in a blue box...

He remembers when they first met; he, fresh from the Time War and her, a shop girl from London. He had not been looking for a companion then, had not wanted someone to travel with, someone to look after and worry about and chase after when she wandered away.

But she'd been more than he bargained for, clever and brave and yearning for adventure and so he'd given her the opportunity to come with him, to choose her own path for probably the first time in her life. He can see himself, his old self, so dark and a little detached (Rose said once that this former regeneration had been 'emo' and he'd been highly amused), and he can see Rose, so bright and young and new to everything. All pink and yellow.

And then gold, absorbing the Time Vortex just to come back to him, risking her own life just to save his. A kiss she wouldn't remember when it was all over and then he changed, so soon after the last time. She'd been afraid of him, demanding he change back and he loved her so much by then that he would've gladly obliged had he been able to.

All he could do was show her that he was the same person he'd always been, and soon it was just as it had been before. New adventures, new planets, but always running with the familiar feel of her hand clasped in his. His face had changed, but something inside him had changed too, and he knew it was because of her. Because of her beauty and her compassion and her smile and her fire, that spark of the goddess she'd once been still residing somewhere inside of her and somehow, inside of him too.

It was dangerous to think, but he had let himself entertain the thought that Rose would be with him forever. Never mind how long forever really is, never mind her human heart, her human mind, and all the ways in which forever is unavailable to her. He could see forever and she was always there.

Until the Daleks and Cybermen, until Rose's bravery and compassion and fire weren't enough to keep her with him and he'd been left alone in that cold white room. He'd felt her through the wall, across the Void but it had been just a ghost of her, that bit of the goddess radiating through until it too left him alone with not even a hand to hold.

Now, miraculously, unbelievably, he has her back. He's told her what he should've been able to tell her two years ago on a cold windy beach, something that even his proper self still couldn't say. He remembers her kiss and wonders if maybe even that was just because she couldn't have the other. He loves her and he wants nothing more than to be with her, to hold her hand in his again. He wants to prove to her that he is the same as he's always been, just with a slight anatomical difference, the single human heart thumping away in his chest.

The flat is silent now, the water no longer running, and he makes a decision. He walks back to her room and pushes on the slightly open bathroom door. She doesn't seem surprised to see him and he steps in the steamy, lavender scented room.

Rose's gaze is on her knees, poking up out of the bubbles, and he sits on the lid of the toilet. He doesn't quite know what to say and he opens his mouth to speak, unsure of what will come out.

"Why won't you look you at me?" he asks quietly, far more bluntly than he'd intended. "I look like him. I sound like him."

"That's it, though," Rose replies to her knees, her voice flat against the bathwater. "You look like him and you sound like him, but you're not him. You're different."

"But I'm not." His voice bounces off the walls, echoing around and sounding odd to his ears. "How can I prove to you that I'm the same?"

Rose shrugs and the water ripples out from the movement.

He is silent a moment. He stretches his hand out, fingers tentative, until he touches the bubbles. He can feel Rose watching him. He pulls his hand back, staring at the tiny mound of frothy bubbles on his fingertips before he exhales, a gentle puff of breath that sends the tiny white bubbles into the air.

"D'you remember," he says abruptly, "the planet with the roses? We hid in the garden for hours and we didn't care because the roses were so beautiful. We named all the colors, all the different kinds. I wanted to give you one but you wouldn't let me cut one off because you said you couldn't bear to see it die."

He looks over at Rose and sees a tear sliding down the side of her nose, lingering on the tip a moment before falling into the water. She closes her eyes and takes a breath.

"You made a garden on the ship," she murmurs. "With all the roses. You showed it to me on my birthday and you promised they would never die. You said it was my garden."

"I loved you so much, Rose, even then," he says, and slides off the toilet seat and onto the floor. Rose sniffles, and he rests his head on the edge of the tub, his eyes on her face.

"All I've ever wanted is for you to be happy. I want you to be happy with me now, but if you can't -"

Rose opens her eyes and looks at him, really finally looks at him.

"Don't leave," she whispers. "I can be happy with you. I want to be happy with you. I just need time."

She offers him a ghost of a smile and he sees the spark of the goddess in her eyes, a faint golden gleam that disappears as quickly as it appeared and wonders if he imagined it. He reaches up and places a hand on her cheek. She closes her eyes again and more tears escape as she nods, leaning into his palm as she raises her own hand to cover his.

Here she is, this is his Rose, and he turns his palm to take her hand. Their fingers weave together and he smiles. All he needs is a hand to hold and he's finally got hers.  



End file.
